MARK’S GUIDE TO JEWLERY STORES AND AIRPORT PORN

Many of my posts originate in airports. In fact, a reader once asked what I did in airports before I started my blog. Well…I really liked to ride on the luggage carousel until security made me get off, but Xanga is much more fun.

Despite what many non-travelers think, air travel is actually pretty unglamorous.  It’s a lot like being in a bus station, but with marginally cleaner restrooms. Yet, in all of my years of being an airport dweller there are still some things that I simply don’t understand.

For example: The magazine stands all stock standard skin rags like Hustler, Playboy, and Penthouse along with “niche” porn like “Buster’s Big Booty Parade.” I can honestly say that I’ve never seen a guy in First Class with a centerfold spread out in front him, his jacket draped conspicuously over his lap, sporting a big, dopey grin. So what pervs are buying these magazines at an airport and why aren’t they just surfing porn on their laptops like the rest of us?

Speaking of First Class, I’m writing this while on a flight from Atlanta to Birmingham. The flight time is only 25 minutes and yet there was a line of people at the counter wanting to upgrade to First Class. If you’re flying to Tokyo I can understand splurging for First Class, but if you need to spend an extra $200.00 to fly First Class for 25 minutes you are a pompous weenie and you need to die.

These are probably the same guys who buy jewelry in airport jewelry stores. When I’m going to make a major jewelry purchase I don’t immediately think of the jewelry store next to the Burger King in Terminal C at Milwaukee International. Apparently some people do, because these places are in every friggin airport. At least buying jewelry is better than buying those tasteless T-Shirts that are designed to capture the local “flavor.”

In the Louisville airport you will find T-Shirts promoting the Kentucky Derby. In Memphis you might find T-Shirts emblazoned with pictures of Beale Street. Those are fine. This morning, however, when I flew out of Tulsa I walked past a rack of T-Shirts (I swear to God I’m not making this up) that declared that Oklahoma was the “cow tipping” capital of America. It made me really proud to be an Okie from Muskogee.

I guess there are things about air travel that I will never fully understand and I’ll just have to accept that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take my Hustler magazine back to the airplane lavatory. I’ve got six minutes left in this flight…that should be plenty of time.